Doors
by Skylar Hart
Summary: England is so deep in debt that he ends up having to sell the majestic doors of his home to help. The worst part? They are the only memory of his mother. France stumbles in at this tender time and gets the opportunity that he needs, a look in the stubborn Brit's soul. FrUk Fluff Oneshot


The warm sun whispered secrets to my own golden waves with their loving rays as I walked to Arthur's house. The Brits pantry had been bare the last time I'd visited so I decided to buy him a few things. The birds serenaded me and the groceries settled comfortably in my exposed arms. The closer I walked, the quieter the birds got. And, once I arrived, I understood why. Arthur's home was surrounded with large and noisy trucks that emitted putrid clouds of soot. I passed with awe, jostling the bags in my arms to get out the spare key that the Brit gave me one time when we were drunk. Of course, I never told him such. With an evil smile at the thought, I reached out to touch the golden orb that mirrored my reflection. Right as my fingers brushed against the cool metal, it was torn from my grasp. Literally. The white wooden door was ripped off its hinges and whipped past me in the strong arms of muscular workman as I practically jumped out of their way. Not bothering to hide my feelings I took a step inside, almost dropping the bags as my mouth dropped open. Arthur stood in the middle of his kitchen, his clover eyes darting around crazily. Eventually his gaze met mine and, after seeing the pain that pooled in them, I ran to put the bags on the counter. After making sure nothing would fall off I hugged him close, his rattled sobs racking my heart.

"Hush mon amour." I said, brushing back his stubborn blond hair and giving it a kiss to calm to calm him down. His tears pattered on my purple silk shirt and I let him cry until he backed up by his own as usual.

"Mon Dieu, what happened?!" I asked him as he ducked his head, his tears pattering to the wooden floor.

"M-my country has so much d-debt," he sobbed, trying to get his emotions in check. "S-s-somebody told me that my do-doors would fetch a good p-price." He tilted his head up. Not only did I know he was pained by the look in his clover eyes, but he hadn't cursed once. Even when I held him in my embrace.

"M-me mum made them when I was a li-little lad. She painted them and carved out the decorations. T-they mean a lot but they shall go if they must." Arthur had stopped crying and stood watching me with a curt nod of his head. "I do thank you for the food although I have plenty. I've no need for charity, nor owing you a favour." My soul screamed louder with every word that poured from his trembling lips.

"Come here." Arthur's eyes widened and he forced out a weak snort.

"Excuse me?"

"I said come here." I slit my eyes to show the threat behind my words and he carefully padded over. Once he was close enough, I unbuttoned his shirt quickly and my knees almost gave out. Arthur made no move to stop me or cover himself up with curses or excuses. He just stood, eyes keenly attached to my face. I couldn't take my eyes off his sorry figure. His ribs were easily seen through his skin, more sickly pale than normal. He was clammy and weak, his bones noticeable as he clenched and unclenched his fists. I looked away before any tears could fall and grabbed him into another hug. Before I noticed my cheeks were wet Arthur was already kissing my cheeks, partially to rid me of tears and partially to calm me down. He twined both of his hands with mine and put our foreheads together. His emerald eyes studied me weakly and his chapped lips kissed me gently.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could hel-"

"No." He tried to part but I held him strong, his eyes slitting into a cat-like state and he growled. "I need no charity. I can manage on my own Frog." I let an injured whimper sound as I reached out to touch his arm instead. He flinched and relaxed, closing his eyes and wrapping me into yet another hug. Surprised that he had done it on his own I squeezed, stroking his back.

"It's not charity." I whispered in his ear, shivering as his own warm breath caressed my neck. "Je t'aime Angleterre."

"I love you too Frog." He whispered back, kissing my neck. "Stay for the night?" I gave a nod happily, laughing as he went to yell at the workers to put things back. Dieu, that man never ceased to amaze me.


End file.
